


Please instruct me

by Lucivar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Porn, Cheating, F/F, Femslash, Implied Relationships, Lesbian Hermione Granger, Lesbian Sex, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, POV First Person, POV Hermione Granger, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucivar/pseuds/Lucivar
Summary: “Hermione,” She whispered, my name rolling off her tongue like honey, “Harry wanted to lick me.” She caught my gaze and lowered her eyes down her curved form, demurely. I gritted my teeth in order not to follow her line of sight down to her moistened pants again.“Did you let him?” I asked, impressed at my politely disinterested tone. My fingers were gripping my textbook so tightly and I could hardly breathe.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	Please instruct me

I watched Ginny and Harry’s engagement party enviously, a glass of champagne in hand. During the speeches, I had numbly swallowed half of the bubbly liquor in my glass, stopping just short of the ripe strawberry at the bottom, inelegantly spluttering. I drew a few quick, annoyed looks from the extended Weasley clan, but faces softened when they realised it was just little Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, a third of the so-called “Golden Trio”.

“She probably just can’t contain her joy.” I heard murmurs along those lines.

If only. I watched the happy couple nuzzle each other lovingly, Harry’s clumsy hands at Ginny’s waist, holding her tightly though she’d vanish if he relaxed. Now Ginny: she was a vision. It almost hurt to look at her. Her red hair, tousled and shiny, cascaded down one slim shoulder, accentuating the deep v-cut of her dress as it caressed her ample cleavage. I noticed the shimmer of a long moonstone pendant, which rested at the swell of her breasts and smiled bitterly, knowing that it was my gift that rested close to Ginny’s heart. She and Harry stopped fluttering at each other and Ginny tossed back her red hair emitting a gorgeous, silvery-coated laugh at something he said.

Harry grinned sheepishly; his fingers flexed and dug into her soft, curvaceous hips, crinkling the viridescent, gossamer fabric of her dress. I worried at my lip in that annoying habit I had, unhappily, watching the woman I loved pledge herself to my best friend. My eyelids scrunched closed as I willed myself to be transported back to the first night in the dark, musty room at Grimmauld place. 

***

I was sitting in bed reading a new book, The Thrills of Arithmancy, up to a place in the book that was strangely existential – Plotting Happiness. I was enthralled in the particular formulae that could be used to create an optimisation of one’s lifetime happiness, given constraints. The depth of understanding and ability for magic to tease our personal knowledge and traits would be the envy of most behavioural economists, I was sure. I was just reaching the derivation of the technical details when I felt Ginny sit on my bed. 

I looked up and almost immediately looked away. She was clad in a white blouse that did noting to hide her taut pink nipples, nor the curves of her breasts. I felt a tingle of arousal and an ache to reach out and stroke, nibble, lick. My mouth was suddenly devoid of saliva and I averted my eyes, feeling my face flush with embarrassment at my longings. 

Gryffindor Courage! I chastened myself for my weakness. 

I forced my eyes back to hers. She was exquisite at sixteen; all curves. She was soft and womanly, whilst I remained thin and boyish (still!) not a year older. Her hair was loose over her shoulders and I wished to twist it in my fingertips.  
“Hermione” she breathed, her tongue flicking out to moisten her parted lips. I stifled a small groan, thinking about what that small tongue could do on my own lips and – ahem – other places. 

“Yes?” I asked, my eyes on her half-lidded ones.

“I just came back from Harry’s room…” I felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of my best friend touching what I had so desperately coveted for so long. My gaze didn’t waver, and for that I was proud. “And he wanted to try something new.”

I raised an eyebrow in a fashion that would make even Snape a little proud. 

Ginny climbed on the bed and sat on my shins, effectively pinning my legs to the bed. Then, she spread her legs in front of me, letting me see the soft curls scarcely hidden by tiny cotton pants. I noticed that she was moist, as the cloth had darkened at the point where her core touched the fabric. 

Her smooth pale legs stretch on either sides of my body holding me captive. I clutched the Arithmancy book to my chest lest she could see my fast-beating heart or my traitorous nipples hardening in arousal. She tossed her tousled locks behind her as she arched her back, her blouse pulling against her breasts. 

I could smell her from where I sat! The air was thick with her need - a floral sweetness I’d always associated with summer nights. 

I licked my lips nervously, “What did he want to try?” My voice cracked slightly.

Ginny lowered her chin to bring her eyes level to mine. She smirked. Her lips pursed, giving her a sultry, calculating look. She had always captivated me.

She parted her lips again and took a deep breath, watching as my gaze was instantly drawn to her nipples. 

“Hermione,” She whispered, my name rolling off her tongue like honey, “Harry wanted to lick me.” She caught my gaze and lowered her eyes down her curved form, demurely. I gritted my teeth in order not to follow her line of sight down to her moistened pants again. 

“Did you let him?” I asked, impressed at my politely disinterested tone. My fingers were gripping my textbook so tightly and I could hardly breathe. 

“Yes,” She breathed this word and I could smell the strawberry scented mouthwash. I swallowed. 

“So what did he do?” Measured again, Hermione! I congratulated myself.

Ginny placed her hand on the bare skin at her stomach, slightly lifting up the blouse so I could see her bellybutton. She rippled her red nail polished fingers on the taut skin and then drew her fingers down over her pants to cup her mound. I watched her hand, knowing I couldn’t look away nor could I watch her satisfied smile of confirmation of my attraction to her. She released her hand then placed a finger on her pants, just above the position of her clitoris, and started circling around it.

“Hermione,” she moaned. I twitched involuntarily. “He couldn’t find his way there. Not ever a diagram would have helped him. I faked an orgasm so he would stop.” 

My nostrils flared and my loyalty to Harry won out. “Give him some time Gin, I’m sure he’ll learn.” 

She gave me a shark-like grin as I choked on her name.

Also, I wanted to say, “I could show you how it should be done.” Or “Something, something, feminism, something, something, that’s why we should never fake orgasms…” But my neurons seemed to all fire at once at the thought of me putting my lips on her quim and her crying out in ecstasy. 

She pouted, “I don’t have time, I’m so incredibly aroused and I don’t know what to do.” Her finger still circled her clit, the red nail shining in the lamplight.

“Have you tried masturbation?” I asked, primly, looking upon her face.

Ginny’s eyes flicked to mine, suddenly much warmer. “No,” she breathed, “I don’t know how to do it properly, I always end up frustrated. Have you done it?”

I nodded, unable to speak for I was thinking about frigging myself in the shower fantasising about her.

She looked playful, “Could you instruct me?” The thrice-damned finger kept circling.

I nodded again and swallowed hard, my voice coming out thick with arousal. “If that’s what you need.” Her eyes darkened and became heavy-lidded. 

“Please,” she begged, “instruct me.”

I had never declined to provide someone instruction in my life, but this time I balked. I did so because I felt guilty about Harry, probably fast asleep thinking he brought his virginal girlfriend to orgasm via the expert manipulations of his tongue. In reality the virginal girlfriend in question was aroused, pinning me to my bed, begging me to talk her to release. I paused because I had always considered myself a good friend, a loyal friend and I would never do anything to upset Harry. Blood was boiling in my veins and I knew that compared to the desperate need to possess Ginny, my rational arguments were straw men tossed aside in the tempestuous nature of my hormones. 

I had fantasised about Ginny Weasley before I knew I was gay. I’d always imagined touching her hair as I watched it glint in the sunlight. I’d imagined kissing her milky smooth shoulders, when she exposed them. I’d imagined kissing her lips after she licked them, which was often. 

My first truly sexual encounter with Ginny was when, the summer after I had turned fifteen, she watched me undress with curiosity. I had turned away to take off my bra and suddenly I could feel her pressed up to my back. She reached under my arms and put her hands on my breasts, cupping them. She flexed her fingers and my nipples tightened. “Your breasts finally came in.” She had said, her hot breath teasing the shell of my ear cruelly, before releasing them and leaving me more turned on than I had ever been in my life. From that moment on, I knew without a doubt I was attracted only to girls and there I was little I could do to stop myself from dreaming about her soft hands on my small breasts for at least the next year. 

So what could I say?

“Of course.” I whispered. I was still holding the Arithmancy tome as a shield, guarding myself from Ginny’s expecting look. I took a deep breath and continued, “You might want to start with playing with your breasts?”

Ginny’s hands crept up her blouse to her large breasts. “Hermione, is that an instruction or a question?” Her fingers were inching to her peaked nipples tantalisingly slowly.

Instruction, right. Ginny had never known me to be shy, always bossy or forward with my opinions or orders. Clearly she wanted me to order her to touch herself. I felt anxious at the thought, never really considering myself a sexual being like her. I had often looked at her across the common room, flirting and teasing or distractedly showing bits of skin in her complete self-confidence. I longed for her sexual confidence or to be the recipient of that confidence. Yet, here we were. I had the opportunity that I had wanted for years, and now I needed the courage. 

I gave her a direct stare. “Touch your breasts Ginny. Play with your nipples.”

Ginny looked at me both shocked and impressed, clearly thinking I was going to be a little harder to manipulate. She licked her lips in an obviously sexual fashion and placed her hands over her breasts, rubbing and groping at herself through the fabric. She was moaning and writhing, plucking at her pert nipples in obvious enjoyment and I could feel myself getting wetter. 

“Touch them out of the blouse, Ginny.”

She unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her shoulders and flicked it away exposing her breasts to the cool air. My mouth watered at the sight of them: perfectly formed with large pink areolas and tiny pink nipples standing at attention. Ginny smiled under my gaze and I shifted uncomfortably, my shins still pinned under the covers. 

“Get yourself comfortable, Hermione.” She pleaded, “You’re helping me and I would hate for you to feel awkward.”

I pulled my legs out from under her and the covers, and knelt near the pillows, still keeping a safe distance between myself and the gorgeous girl moaning in the centre of my bed, who was now pulling her nipples and writhing. 

Her face was flushed when she looked at me. “It’s not helping!” She whined, moaning pathetically, “I feel all hot in my stomach, but it’s not helping!” 

She cried out offering her breasts to me with her hands. “Show me, Hermione!”

“Touch your clit.” I said, trying to ignore the request for my hands on her breasts. I watched her eyes widen and her hand make its way quickly into her pants, rubbing and circling her clitoris. One hand still groped her breast and propped her up on an elbow as she quivered and panted inches from me. 

“Please, Hermione, my breasts! Touch them!” She half screamed at me.  
I could never deny her so I leant over her, my wild hair caressing her milky skin as I reached my hand to her breast and sighed. It was so soft in my hand, so warm! I kneaded Ginny’s breasts with my fingers; circling the nipples and flicking them, watching them harden and pucker. I could feel the wetness in my own pants and my hormones raged at me to go faster. 

Ginny looked like the cat that ate the cream, smiling smugly as she watched me touch her. 

She looked up at me through thick lashes, “Kiss them would you?” 

She had stopped touching herself and was using both elbow for support as she arched her back, bringing her breasts to brush my chin. It drove me crazy. I leant forward and captured a nipple in my teeth and she gasped beneath me, in shock and pleasure. I laved both breasts and nipples with my tongue, playing the same route as my careful fingers, but this time, sucking and biting on the breasts and the nipples.

“Hermione!” she gasped, “I’m going to get bruises!” She sounded scandalised but her face was one of pure enjoyment, so I pinched her nipples hard. She cried out and I was rewarded with the feeling of her thrust her hips towards me, and grind herself on my leg. I grinned and began my ministrations on her breasts with increased fervour, kissing the soft seams underneath and nibbling on her nipples, tugging at them with my teeth. I gave her direct eye contact as I licked her nipples and she moaned. I could feel her wetness through my pyjamas, as she pushed herself against me, rubbing and mewling. 

“It’s not enough!” She cried in anguish. She lay flat on her back and reached her hand into her pants, “I feel it here, but I can’t reach it! Hermione, please!”

I was too aroused to think through the consequences, so I pulled her hips towards me, crouching over so I could bury my nose and face into her wetness. I licked it, tasting her. She cried out as my face touched her core through her pants, face and breasts flushed with need. I ran my fingers along her smooth inner thighs and felt her press herself against my face. 

“Take my pants off!” She cried and I complied, peeling them off and throwing them aside unceremoniously. 

I could see it all now, her hot, wet quim. Soft hairs glistening with moisture as she spread her legs even more and pushed her hips closer to my face. I licked my lips. “Make me come, Hermione.” She demanded.

I felt a rush of power flush over me and I put my mouth over her clitoris. She keened in pleasure as I began licking her, sucking her and kissing her with open-mouthed kisses. Even as a witch, I had never felt quite as powerful as in this moment, feeling the woman I loved so absolutely give herself over to me for pleasure, grinding her quim against my face. I teased her slick entrance with my finger and I began to feel her tremble, her legs quaking as she pressed her hips higher. Her clit was engorged and I sucked on it, pulling it lightly with my teeth. She clasped her hands to her breasts and cried out my name as she came, her walls clutching desperately at my fingertip, soaking juices over my chin. I held my hand under the small of her back as I lapped up her release, hearing her breathy moan. Looking at her flushed and satiated form, knowing I did that to her made me feel like a demi god. She looked at me in the purest of wonder, eyes begging to know how I had made her feel so relaxed and complete. I smiled and stretched out next to her naked body, still clothed and sweating. She nuzzled her face into my neck like a cat and then sighed. She looked at me with her big, brown eyes and pulled my lips – still glistening with her release – to hers. Kissing Ginny was incredible, her lips were so soft and she tasted of strawberries, her tongue lightly caressed mine and her hands found their way to my small breasts under my t-shirt. 

“Oh Hermione,” she said my name like prayer, “You are magical. I never realised that’s how it was meant to feel.” She pulled up my shirt and started licking my nipples, enjoying the way I sighed softly as she touched me. Her hands smoothed my breasts and I could feel the wetness between my thighs. She snaked her hand down my flat belly and into my pants, fingers finding my heat. I cried out, aching for her to touch me harder. She used her tongue to flick one nipple as she plunged her finger inside me, making me arc up. 

“You like that?” She asked with a midnight voice, “Hermione loves it when I press my fingers inside of her.” 

I nodded in agreement as she pumped her fingers in and out of me. I tried to move my pyjama bottoms off but Ginny was now saying, “How about I make you come with my fingers and then sit on your face? Would you like that Hermione? I know you’ve always wanted to stick your tongue in my hot little pussy.” I moaned in embarrassed arousal, knowing it was true and that I all my power with her was directed at her own pleasure. Ginny had no finesse when it came to fingering me; she was too fast and rough, but I was so aroused and so in love with her my release came mere seconds later as I crumpled around her finger. 

She smiled and pressed my finger to my mouth. “Suck it.” She ordered and I took her finger deep inside my mouth, tasting my juices. She closed her eyes in pleasure and then laid me flat on my back so she could straddle my face. 

Ginny was inherently a selfish lover, I realised too late, as I was seduced by her beauty, confidence and wanton behaviour. She lowered her quim onto my mouth and watched my eyes as I sucked her. I reached up and plucked her nipples, grabbed her breasts with certain ferocity and she laughed in pleasure. 

“Hermione, you are gorgeous beneath me.” She stroked my hair and tilted my head up so I could gain better access to her with my tongue. She ground her pussy and her arse down on my face and I stuck my tongue deep inside her, flicking it in her tightening wetness. She cried out in pleasure, her hot juices soaking my mouth and drowning me in sensations. 

She got off my face and brought me into her breasts for a hug. I nuzzled her, whispering, “I love you”, knowing that it was not and would never be the right time.

“I know,” she smiled indulgently, “but we have to keep this a secret or Harry will be hurt.”

I felt a sting at Harry’s name and a loss at knowing that Ginny didn’t return my affection but then she brought her lips to mine and kissed me so senselessly that I soon forgot about my concerns.


End file.
